


Dawn of a New Era

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Gen, Heat Stroke, Hurt Stiles, POV Derek Hale, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Episode: s04e12 Smoke & Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles listed to the side, unprovoked this time, and when Derek righted him he noticed the intense heat pouring off his skin.  Alternate ending to Smoke and Mirrors, Episode 4.12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawn of a New Era

**Author's Note:**

> A single prompt fic submission for 2015 Hurt/Comfort Bingo. I was trying to climb inside of Derek's head. I'm not sure I did it justice but it was fun. This could be construed as pre-Sterek with some squinting.

Derek planned to make the most of his unexpected time alone.

When Braeden received a tip on the Desert Wolf, Derek had decided to make his own way back to Beacon Hills. What happened after Derek returned to Beacon Hills was anyone’s guess. He had a certain fondness for Scott, he wished him well, but he didn’t really feel drawn to anyone else in the pack. He wasn’t even technically a part of the pack.

Derek shook off those thoughts and instead concentrated on the new changes in his life. He only had the clothes on his back along with his wallet and cell phone but Braeden had given him a bag so he could stow what little gear he had in it and travel on four legs.

It was hard to believe Derek could shift into a full wolf and now that he wasn’t surrounded by people, he was going to see if he could get a look at himself fully shifted. 

Stripping down behind an outcropping of rocks, Derek tucked his things into the navy nylon bag. Closing his eyes he centered himself before forcing the change. His joints twitched and flexed and it felt good, like he was scratching an itch. He tried to concentrate on what was happening to his body but the alteration was so smooth he couldn’t keep track of everything. He planted his hands on the ground before he did a full body stretch.

Nothing hurt. Everything felt good. It was as if his body craved this shape and everything was right in his world again.

Derek nudged his nose through the straps of the bag and let the weight settle in front of him like the barrel of brandy around a Saint Bernard’s neck. He snorted in amusement at that thought; it sounded like something Stiles would say. 

His first order of business was to find a reflective surface so he could get a good look at himself. The desert really wasn’t the best place for this but until he found what he was looking for, he’d just enjoy his run.

The sun beat down on his black fur but he panted as he stretched his legs, letting his natural cooling system do its job. 

On his travels he passed a Gila monster, rattlesnake, scorpion and a little kangaroo rat, which shied away from him as quickly as possible. 

By far the best wildlife sighting was the roadrunner. He heard rattling followed by cooing noises so he slowed his steps. Off to his right he saw the dark shaggy crest of head peeking up before long legs darted away. The roadrunner looked like it was going about 15 mph and Derek could’ve easily caught up to it but he just admired it from afar. He looked around, expecting to see Wile E Coyote in pursuit but there were no other creatures on the barren sand.

Something bright glinted in the general direction the roadrunner had gone in and Derek trotted that way. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would be something with a reflective surface.

There were no real roads this far out, only packed dirt beaten down, but as he got closer it looked like a vehicle had been upended on its side. 

A gunmetal gray van.

Shit.

Derek sprinted toward the van, hoping he was wrong. Scott, Kira and the others had taken the van back to Beacon Hills.

Flattening down to the ground to avoid detection, Derek slowly picked his way toward the van, scenting the air as he approached.

Blood. Sweat.

_Stiles?_

Something moved in his peripheral vision and Derek skittered to the side, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

A large, black wolf with bright blue eyes stared back at him. His first glimpse of himself as a wolf and he had to say he looked pretty badass.

He stared at the blurred image reflected on the side of the van. This wolf was larger than his mom or Laura but otherwise looked similar. He wondered what the rest of the Hales would say if they could see him now. He’d felt like a loser for so long that this felt like a real accomplishment. Shaking his head, Derek dismissed his reflection and pushed onward. 

Peaking around the corner of the van, Derek found the source of the scent.

Stiles was propped up against the back of the van, eyes closed against the glare of the bright sun. Derek carefully nosed at the still human. His tongue snaked out, licking a line from chin to high cheekbone.

The boy startled, eyelids springing open, toppling to his side with a harsh grunt.

It wasn’t that Derek had forgotten he was in full shift—after all he’d just gotten his first good look at himself in this form—he’d just forgotten that Stiles wouldn’t recognize him like this. He dipped his head, letting the bag slide off to the ground, before willing the shift.

Muscles, joints and bones snapped and crackled and with a great pop he found himself upright.

“Derek?” Stiles asked as he tried to push himself into a sitting position again.

Rushing forward, Derek gripped Stiles’s upper arms and straightened him out. When had skinny Stiles developed muscles?

Cataloguing the injuries he could see—gash above Stiles’s left eye, left arm held protectively against his body, shallow breathing—Derek didn’t respond right away.

“Is that really you or am I dreaming?” Stiles sputtered.

Derek hunched down between Stiles and the sun, shading the boy the best he could. “Do you usually dream about me?”

Stiles’s eyes widened and Derek could see how glassy and bloodshot they were. “Well, um, you are naked. So yeah, this could be a dream.”

Derek didn’t know whether Stiles was kidding or not which had always been a problem he had when talking to the kid. Scott was earnest and caring and said what he meant even if Derek didn’t want to hear it while Stiles was sarcastic and ironic and constantly referenced pop culture that went over Derek’s head. Quite frankly the human intimidated him.

Stiles listed to the side, unprovoked this time, and when Derek righted him he noticed the intense heat pouring off his skin. Car accidents didn’t usually result in a fever unless there was an infection. “Stiles, why do you have a fever? Did you get bit by something?”

Blinking slowly, Stiles’s tongue moistened his lips. “Don’t think so. It’s from my, uh,” Stiles paused, face scrunching up in confusion. “What’s that stuff called that I take?”

Derek was as confused as Stiles. What stuff did Stiles take? Racking his brain, Derek tried to think. He inhaled deeply to center himself and was hit with the sharp smell of chemicals. Oh. “Your medicine? Your medicine is making you hot? What did you take?”

Stiles laughed but it wasn’t that mean, harsh laugh Derek was used to hearing. It was musical and amused and made Derek smile in response. 

Stiles cleared his throat, “Well I’d like to think I’m always hot. Just not surface of the sun hot like you are. Regular hot, you know? But yes.” Stiles’s gaze roamed around, flitting from above Derek’s shoulder, up to the sky, down to the ground and then back to Derek. “Where are we? And why are you naked?”

Cupping Stiles’s cheeks with his hands, Derek cringed at the heat. “Stiles, I need you to concentrate. What medicine do you take?”

The boy’s face crumpled. “I don’t remember.”

The chemo-signals wafting off of the boy were driving Derek’s wolf crazy with they’re misery and confusion and pain. “Shhhh. It’s okay, Stiles. Do you remember why you take the medicine?”

“So I can focus. I had to take a lot before we headed down here because I had to get Scotty back. I only have him and my dad you know.” Moisture flooded already glassy eyes and salty water smudged dirty cheeks.

Derek wasn’t great at comforting others but Stiles was obviously injured and confused and quietly melting down, so he gathered the boy carefully against his shoulder. He patted the surprisingly broad back awkwardly while thinking.

Stiles had some sort of attention deficit disorder, which meant he probably took stimulants. That explained the tang of chemicals that usually surrounded the boy. Although the body he held against his chest was not boyish by any stretch of the imagination.

Stimulants raised the body temperature and that was the last thing a fragile human needed in the unrelenting heat.

Setting Stiles away from him so he could see him better, Derek asked the other question that had been bothering him. “Where are Scott and the others?” It didn’t make sense that the alpha would leave his injured pack mate behind.

The tears that had dried up threatened to fall again, this time accompanied by a wobbling lower lip. “We were chasing a…werecoyote? After we crashed Malia took off after it. Scott went for help and couldn’t be parted from Kira’s side.” Stiles’s tone was off. Not jealous exactly. Maybe resigned.

“And the others?”

“Parrish followed when he heard a gunshot and Liam couldn’t stand sitting around so he went after them. Him. Whatever.”

Derek had to remind himself that these were kids. Well, the deputy wasn’t a kid but he would of course feel compelled to investigate gunfire. “So they left you here alone?”

“Story of my life,” Stiles mumbled before closing his eyes against the glare. “I told them to go. I’m pretty indestructible. I bet if there was a nuclear holocaust, it would be me and the cockroaches left.”

Derek didn’t comment but Stiles’s rambling made him think a bit. Not about cockroaches or nuclear holocausts but about Stiles. He’d always assumed the younger man was an obnoxious little shit and he’d attributed it to him being an entitled jerk. Like Jackson had been because he came from money he figured Stiles was that way due to his dad being the sheriff. He was rethinking his assumptions; it sounded more and more like the boy was lonely. Lonely was something Derek could relate to and when he was honest with himself, he could admit that he was also an obnoxious shit. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

Derek pulled his belongings out of the bag and rapidly donned his clothing. He now wished he’d grabbed some bottled water but he hadn’t really worried about it at the time knowing his wolf would be able to find water if needed. That was fine for him but getting Stiles hydrated was a priority.

Pulling out his cell phone, Derek checked for a signal but he couldn’t get any bars. Tucking it into his front pocket, he surveyed the landscape.

“I think we need to get you to town.” Derek was stating the obvious but Stiles wasn’t offering up any suggestions and his uncharacteristic silence was rattling Derek’s nerves.

Stiles slowly blinked his eyes open but didn’t offer an opinion.

“Put your arms around my neck.” Derek slid to a knee and when Stiles didn’t comply, he went ahead and threaded an arm beneath his knees while cradling his back.

Rising to his feet, Derek jiggled the body in his arms until he was satisfied with the distribution of weight. He catalogued the sharp intake of breath when he rose to his feet along with the fact that the teen wasn’t much of a strain on his back. Stiles was definitely ill and was also maybe underweight.

Derek had only taken a few steps when a fist connected with his shoulder. It didn’t have much power but it certainly wasn’t a love tap. “Put me down. You are not carrying me.”

Sighing loudly, Derek looked down at Stiles. “Stiles. You can’t walk in this condition. You need help. Let me take you to town.”

“I’m not some freakin’ princess to cart around. Piggyback ride?” Stiles was working those large brown eyes, face earnest as he stared up at Derek. He’d always thought Scott had the puppy dog face down but Stiles could give him a run for his money. Although with his big, Bambi eyes it was more like a doe face.

Without a word, Derek lowered long legs to the ground and steadied Stiles until he was certain the teen wouldn’t fall over. “Put your arms around my neck and let me do the work.”

Stiles curled one arm around Derek’s neck and ignored his instructions, hopping onto Derek’s back with a grunt and a moan. Derek ignored the breathy sounds, instead focusing on hitching Stiles’s weight up and pinning the injured boy’s thighs against his body to keep him stable. “Hang on.”

Derek chewed up the ground at a fast trot, but he was mindful of the groans that escaped Stiles’s mouth with each exhalation. The heat was pouring off of the teen’s body, making Derek’s shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. 

The puffs of moist, warm air that burst from Stiles’s lips in time with each of Derek’s steps were becoming more labored. When Stiles’s head leaned heavily into the crook of Derek’s neck and the tension left his legs, Derek knew he’d have to stop before the teen tumbled off of his back.

When he slowed to a gradual standstill, Derek tried to coax a response out of Stiles. “Hey, Stiles, you still with me?”

The teen hiccupped a soft noise and rubbed his cheek against Derek’s neck as if settling in for the duration. The move was reminiscent of something a wolf would do to its pack mate—a show of trust—and Derek realized that any aspirations he’d had of leaving Beacon Hills would need to be rethought. He did have a bond with Scott’s pack. Or at least with Stiles.

It was an uncoordinated dismount but Derek somehow managed to ease Stiles down and scoop him up in his arms without either one of them falling to the ground. The teen might not want to be a princess but his bright red face and lack of sweat were indicators that he was running out of time.

Derek full out sprinted, clutching Stiles close to his chest, and headed due north where he was pretty certain he’d find a road that would lead him to town and medical help.

Stiles had begun to wheeze and showed no signs of stirring as Derek finally spotted a road. It was another twenty minutes before he heard a vehicle approaching. Slowing to a walk, Derek edged out on to the road where the truck would have to either stop or hit them. Derek was prepared to jump if the truck didn’t slow down but he was hoping that the driver would be a Good Samaritan.

The blue Ford F-150 pulled smoothly to a stop next to Derek and the passenger window rolled down with an electronic hum. Derek aimed a non-threatening smile at the older Hispanic man. The man did not look enthused at stopping and Derek belatedly recalled Cora saying that when Derek smiled he resembled a serial killer. “Hola senor. Mi amigo esta muy enfermo. Podria usted por favor nos da un paseo a la hospital o clinica mas cercana?”

The man wrinkled his tan face until the creases stood out like the mountains and valleys on a raised relief map. “In English, boy.”

Derek internally rolled his eyes but tried to keep any reaction from showing on his face or in his voice. “Sorry, sir. My friend is very sick, probably suffering from heat stroke. Could you please give us a ride to the nearest hospital or clinic?”

The man mumbled under his breath and if Derek had cared about his opinion, he would’ve listened more closely. As it was, he just stood there and enjoyed the air-conditioned breeze as it wafted out the window.

The driver took off his baseball cap, logo worn off from hard living and over use, and scratched at his graying hair. He stared at Stiles. Mouth twisting as though he couldn’t help but notice how red faced and sickly the teen appeared, he finally nodded. “Fine. Hop in. I’ll take you in to town.”

Derek reached for the door handle but the automatic locks engaged. “Nope. In back.”

Shoulders drooping, Derek didn’t offer up a complaint. He couldn’t really blame the man. He didn’t know them and he’d be foolish to trust strangers. 

“Yes, sir,” Derek said with resignation. He walked around to the back and slid Stiles onto the flatbed, hopping up next to him. He shifted Stiles until they were behind the cab, which should act as a windbreak. Derek didn’t know if he should hold Stiles so he didn’t bounce around or leave him be so his own body heat didn’t add to his problems.

The window between the cab and the back slid open. “Here,” the man gruffly said, thrusting a bottled water through the window.

Derek stared at the bottle in surprise and the window closed with a snap before he could thank the man.

The driver muttered about fool kids wandering around the desert and what did they expect and irresponsible youth and Derek finally tuned him out. He levered Stiles across his lap before cracking open the bottle, the cap hitting the bed with a ping. Derek was sure their rescuer would cuss them out when he found the litter.

Supporting Stiles’s neck, Derek tipped the bottle against his lips. Stiles swallowed reflexively but coughed and sputtered, most of the water spraying back out. He managed to dampen both himself and Derek, eyelashes spiked with moisture.

“Stiles, I need you to take a sip of this. Slowly.” Derek coaxed as he tipped the bottle to Stiles’s cracked lips again.

He received the same result as the previous attempt.

Stiles’s eyelids remained closed and he continued to lie passively in Derek’s arms.

If the teen wasn’t going to rehydrate then Derek could work on cooling him. Retrieving the discarded cap, Derek twisted it on the bottle before setting it down. Derek pulled first one arm and then the other out of his t-shirt, juggling Stiles from one arm to the other. 

The neck, the armpits and the groin were the best areas to apply cold compresses to bring down a fever and the neck was the easiest to get to so Derek doused his shirt with the cool water and wrapped it loosely around Stiles’s long neck. He steadied the teen as the truck jostled down the road, praying they would get to help soon.

After about twenty minutes the truck began to slow and Derek recognized an ER entrance. When the truck completed a rocking motion, coming to a complete stop, Derek carried Stiles to the end of the flatbed, jumping to the ground. If anyone paid attention they’d know there were something unnatural about the maneuver but at the moment he needed to sacrifice some of the privacy surrounding the supernatural to get Stiles some help.

He shouted a hasty thank you to the driver before running through the sliding glass doors. He headed straight for the front counter. The woman was already motioning for someone to bring a gurney and then Stiles was being whisked out of sight.

“Sir, we need some information,” the woman with brown hair in a loose ponytail said as she herded Derek toward a desk with a sign proclaiming registration.

“Um, sir, do you have a shirt?” The woman asked, staring boldly at his chest.

Derek couldn’t keep from blushing, having forgotten he’d sacrificed his t-shirt for cooling down Stiles. “Oh, sorry. I poured water on it to try to cool my friend down.”

“Oh.” The woman seemed nonplussed by his answer but then held up a finger and disappeared into the back. She emerged a minute later with a white t-shirt with wording on it. She unfolded it so he could read the writing, in purple: Relay for Life. It wasn’t big enough but at least he wouldn’t be exposed. Derek drew it over his head hastily, blurting out his thanks.

“Now then, what’s your friend’s name?”

“Stiles Stilinski.”

“Really?”

“Well I’m pretty sure Stiles is a nickname but I don’t know his real name. Maybe he has his wallet on him with ID?”

The woman nodded before moving to the next question.

“Date of birth?”

“Um. I think he’s 17?”

The woman smirked a little but continued gamely on. “How about a parent or guardian?”

“Sheriff Stilinski in Beacon Hills, California.”

“I don’t suppose you have his number.”

“Well. No.” Derek really didn’t know a lot about his pack mate. He planned to remedy that once they returned home.

A slim man in navy scrubs hustled into the registration area. “Are you Derek?”

Derek responded to the urgency in the man’s voice and stood up. “Yes, I’m Derek. Is Stiles okay?”

“He’s a bit confused right now and agitated and we thought you might be able to come back and help us keep him calm.”

The woman at the registration desk was quickly left behind as Derek followed the nurse. “How did you know my name?” 

“The kid, what did you call him, Stiles? He was calling for you by name. Also calling for a sourwolf whatever that is.”

Derek used to be irritated by the nickname but he actually was amused by it now. He had acted like a sourwolf when he’d first met Scott and Stiles and the name was pretty clever. Just like Stiles.

“Is Stiles okay?”

“We need to get his core body temperature down so we’ve wrapped him with a cooling blanket and are applying icepacks. If that doesn’t work then we’ll try immersion therapy. Something tells me he won’t like that very much.”

They entered a glass-cubed room and sure enough, Stiles was yanking his arm away as another nurse tried to insert an IV. Derek rushed forward and took Stiles’s hand. “Stiles, it’s Derek. You need to let the nurses help you.”

Stiles stopped his flailing and settled down, lightly squeezing Derek’s hand. The petite woman mouthed a thank you as she quickly inserted the IV into Stiles’s uninjured arm. Once the IV was in place, she turned her attention on Derek. “We need to find out what medications, if any, and any allergies Stiles has. Do you know?”

“No. But I gave the woman at the desk some contact information for Stiles’s father.” Black lines were swirling up Derek’s arm and he shook Stiles’s hand away. The teen quickly became restless, perhaps from the pain, and began to thrash.

A hard plastic chair pushed into the back of Derek’s legs and he sunk down into it as the male nurse said, “Please, keep him as still and calm as you can. I’ll be right back.”

Derek grasped Stiles’s hand again, this time tucking his arm beneath the cooling blanket to screen the pain-drain from curious eyes. Stiles quickly stilled again.

The blond nurse was gone for maybe three minutes before she bustled back in. She dabbed a damp washcloth across Stiles’s face, both cooling and cleaning the dirt away. “There you go, Stiles. What an interesting name. When you feel better I’d like to hear about how got it. For now just relax and let the cooling treatment do its job. I’m going to add a little something to help you with your shivering.”

On cue, Stiles gave a full body shudder, his eyes opening partially as he grimaced.

“What are you giving him?”

“A benzodiazepine. It’s a muscle relaxant and will also help with some of the anxiety. We reached his father and he’s on the way.”

Derek appreciated that the nurse answered his questions and he knew if Stiles was paying attention, he would want to know what treatment he was receiving.

The male nurse approached the bedside. “Stiles, I’m going to put this nasal cannula in your nose to give you extra oxygen. Some people say it pinches a little so let me know if you’re too uncomfortable.”

The nurses whose names Derek learned were Lindsay and Mike continued to hustle in and out of the room. A woman in a lab coat stopped in after about four hours and introduced herself as the doctor but Derek promptly forget her name; she announced they were moving Stiles to the ICU for monitoring and that Stiles’s dad should be arriving in about four hours. She invited Derek to accompany the teen upstairs.

Derek’s wolf was pleased he could accompany the teen. Stiles had drifted between wakefulness and sleep, twitching and stillness, and Derek just wanted him to feel better. At least he could continue to draw the pain away, which seemed to help Stiles rest more easily.

Stiles remained in the ER bed and Lindsay and Mike wheeled him to an elevator, Derek holding his hand the whole way. The teen was no longer cherry red in color but the pallor was just as disconcerting. Derek was torn between wishing Stiles would wake up and make fun of him and hoping he’d sleep through the worst of the sickness.

The ICU was an exact replica of the ER cubicle and Stiles was soon hitched to just as many monitors and leads as he had been downstairs. Lindsay and Mike wished Stiles luck as Jenna, his new nurse, came in to do a vitals check. “Don’t be afraid of the ICU. We just want to make sure that Stiles gets better and this floor has the most resources to make sure that happens.”

Her light blue scrubs swished as she left the cubicle after fussing with the IV.

Derek forgot about how uncomfortable he was in the borrowed too small shirt as well as how thirsty and hungry he’d become. Jenna reentered the cubicle, setting a bottled water and cellophane wrapped cheese and cracker container on the tray table next to Derek. “You need to keep up your strength, too.”

He might’ve fallen on the snack and water like the wolf he really was after the nurse left again, but he felt better able to drain Stiles’s pain after the sustenance.

Bored and tired, Derek nodded off. He rested his cheek against the cooling blanket, closing his eyes for just a minute.

“Thank you, son,” a hand squeezed his shoulder and Derek bolted upright. He recognized the voice and allowed the firm pressure on his shoulder to keep him sitting. The sheriff had finally arrived.

“What?” Not exactly eloquent but it had been a trying twenty-four hours.

“I said thank you. For taking care of Stiles.” Blue eyes brimmed with moisture and Derek looked away, gaze resting on Stiles. The teen already looked better although better in this case meant cracked lips, sunburned face and arms, and various lines attached to his body.

“Do you want to sit here? Do you need me to go?” Derek prepared to stand up, resigned to leaving his pack mate behind, when the Sheriff cuffed his shoulder lightly.

“I’ve done nothing but sit all day so I’d like to stand for a while. I don’t think my son the octopus is going to give up his grip on your hand but if you need to leave, or want to get cleaned up, I understand.”

Derek looked at Stiles closely. The plastic prongs in his nose highlighted how very sick he was as did the needle in his arm. The display flashing his temperature, heart rate and blood pressure occasionally jolted with an alarm that always set Derek’s heart to galloping until it settled back down. No, he wasn’t yet ready to leave.

He thought about asking the sheriff how Stiles had gotten so skinny but he was pretty sure that would be interpreted as an accusation. Maybe it was an accusation although watching the sheriff look so fondly at Stiles, emotion brimming in his eyes, he knew the teen was well loved by his father.

Yet despite that love Stiles was lonely. Derek’s wolf turned around and around until it found a comfortable place to settle down; the wolf had decided Derek was going to watch over the ailing young man until he was kicked out.

“No, sir. I’d like to stay if that’s okay.”

Derek realized that little decision had settled his foreseeable future. Apparently he would be going back to Beacon Hills to watch out for the pack.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This was the story I produced with the h/c prompt of heat stroke. 
> 
> I'd like to give thanks to the Beta by the super talented feather_touch. She rocks. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
